CHAPTER XII
A BOMBSHELL
"Good morning, Miss Brent."
Patricia was surprised at the graciousness of Mrs. Bonsor's salutation,particularly after the episode of the Zoo on the previous afternoon.
"Good morning," she responded, and made to go upstairs to take off herhat and coat.
"I congratulate you," proceeded Mrs. Bonsor in honeyed tones; "but I'mjust a little hurt that you did not confide in me." Mrs. Bonsor's tonewas that of a trusted friend of many years' standing.
"Confide!" repeated Patricia in a matter-of-fact tone. "Confide what,Mrs. Bonsor?"
"Your engagement to Lord Peter Bowen. Such a surprise. You're a verylucky girl. I hope you'll bring Lord Peter to call."
Patricia listened mechanically to Mrs. Bonsor's inanities. Suddenlyshe realised their import. What had happened? How did she know? HadMr. Triggs told her?
"How did you know?" Patricia enquired.
"Haven't you seen _The Morning Post_?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
"_The Morning Post_!" repeated Patricia, in consternation; "but--but Idon't understand."
"Then isn't it true?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor, scenting a mystery.
"I--I----" began Patricia, then with inspiration added, "I must begetting on, I've got a lot to do to make up for yesterday."
"But isn't it true, Miss Brent?" persisted Mrs. Bonsor.
Then from half-way up the stairs Patricia turned and, in a spurt ofmischief, cried, "If you see it in _The Morning Post_ it is so, Mrs.Bonsor."
When Patricia entered the library Mr. Bonsor was fussing about withletters and papers, a habit he had when nervous.
"I'm so sorry about yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bonsor," said Patricia;"but Mrs. Bonsor seemed to wish me to----"
"Not at all, not at all, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bonsor nervously."I--I----" then he paused.
"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Bonsor, but please don't say it."
Mr. Bonsor looked at her in surprise. "Not say it?" he said.
"Oh! everybody's congratulating me, and I'm tired. Shall we get onwith the letters?"
Mr. Bonsor was disappointed. He had prepared a dainty little speech ofcongratulation, which he had intended to deliver as Patricia enteredthe room. Mr. Bonsor was always preparing speeches which he neverdelivered. There was not an important matter that had been before theHouse since he had represented Little Dollington upon which he had notprepared a speech. He had criticised every member of the Governmentand Opposition. He had prepared party speeches and anti-partyspeeches, patriotic speeches and speeches of protest. He had calledupon the House of Commons to save the country, and upon the country tosave the House of Commons. He had woven speeches of splendid optimismand speeches of gloomy foreboding. He had attacked ministers anddefended ministers, seen himself attacked and had routed his enemies.He had prepared speeches to be delivered to his servants for domesticmisdemeanour, speeches for Mr. Triggs, even for Mrs. Bonsor.
He had conceived speeches on pigs, speeches on potatoes, speeches onoil-cake, and speeches on officers' wives; in short, there was nothingin the world of his thoughts about which he had not prepared a speech.The one thing he did not do was to deliver these speeches. They werewonderful things of his imagination, which seemed to defycrystallization into words. So it was with the speech ofcongratulation that he had prepared for Patricia.
That morning Patricia was distraite. Her thoughts continued to wanderto _The Morning Post_ announcement, and she was anxious to get out tolunch in order to purchase a copy and see what was actually said. Thenher thoughts ran on to who was responsible for such an outrage; forPatricia regarded it as an outrage. It was obviously Bowen who haddone it in order to make her position still more ridiculous. It wasmean, she was not sure that it was not contemptible.
Patricia was in the act of transcribing some particulars about infantmortality in England and Wales compared with that of Scotland, when theparlourmaid entered with a note. Mr. Bonsor stretched out his hand forit.
"It is for Miss Brent, sir," said the maid.
Patricia looked up in surprise. It was unusual for her to receive anote at the Bonsors'. She opened the envelope mechanically and read:--
"DEAREST,
"I have just seen _The Morning Post_. It is sweet of you to relent.You have made me very happy. Will you dine with me to-night and whenmay I take you to Grosvenor Square? My mother will want to see her newdaughter-in-law.
"I so enjoyed last night. Surely the gods are on my side.
"PETER."
Patricia read and re-read the note. For a moment she felt ridiculouslyhappy, then, with a swift change of mood she saw the humiliation of hersituation. Bowen thought it was she who had inserted the notice of theengagement. What must he think of her? It looked as if she had doneit to burn his boats behind him. Then suddenly she seized a pen andwrote:--
"DEAR LORD PETER,
"I know nothing whatever about the announcement in _The Morning Post_,and I only heard of it when I arrived here. I cannot dine with youto-night, and I am very angry and upset that anyone should have had theimpertinence to interfere in my affairs. I shall take up the matterwith _The Morning Post_ people and insist on a contradictionimmediately.
"Yours sincerely, "PATRICIA BRENT."
With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed theenvelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather animportant note that I had to answer."
Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of _The Morning Post_, andthere saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between LordPeter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late JohnBrent, of Little Milstead."
"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of thecolumn?" she muttered aloud. A man occupying an adjoining table at theplace where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patriciato herself as she paid her bill and rose. "Ugh!"
She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon's work when the maidentered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia. "Tell him I'm busy, will you please?"
The maid's jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but nomaid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such anextraordinary attitude on the part of a newly-engaged girl. Nothingshort of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risento such an occasion.
"But, Miss Brent----" began Mr. Bonsor.
Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellerswalked out a disillusioned young woman.
Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow! LordPeter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room. I have just beentalking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us oneday next week."
"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor. I am very busy with pigs,and babies, and potatoes. I really cannot add Lord Peter to myresponsibilities at the moment."
Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
"But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the airof one who has to perform an unpleasant task. "I wish he'd stay at theWar Office and leave me to do my work. I suppose I shall have to writeto Lord Derby about it."
Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged inpreparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested byPatricia's remark about Lord Derby.
As Patricia entered the morning-room, B
owen came forward.
"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche? Why thismorning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voicewhilst in my bath, and now. Look at me now!"
Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh. He presentedsuch a woebegone appearance.
"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" sheenquired.
"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph. I thought everything was goingto be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."
"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it washanded in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
"Aunt Adelaide!" There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone asshe uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did youtell them to contradict it?"
"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meetPatricia's eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who isexpecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to preventherself from laughing.
"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knewthat it was wrong?"
Bowen hung his head. "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now Ishall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement beingcontradicted."
"Good Lord! Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They'll thinkwe've all gone mad."
"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used thediminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.
"I am afraid I have an--an----"
The hesitation was her undoing.
"No; don't tell me fibs, please. You will dine with me and then,afterwards, we will go on and see the mater. She is dying to know you."
How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,and--and--how different everything might have been if---- Patricia wasawakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
"No, I--I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyonebut me," was Bowen's answer. "If you won't come and dine with me I'llcome and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out toget rid of me. You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've setmy mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether youlike it or not."
"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
"Very well," said Patricia wearily. It seemed ridiculous to try andfight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan ofaction, which she meant to put into operation.
"Now I must get back to my work. Good-bye."
Bowen opened the door of the morning-room. Mrs. Bonsor was in thehall. Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.Bonsor's clutches.
"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed. "I hope you and Miss Brent willdine with us----"
Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.
At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortalitystatistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House. Shewas tired and dispirited. It was the weather, she told herself, Londonin June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over_The Morning Post_ announcement. At Galvin House she knew the sameordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, MissSikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the otherswould be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little moreso as a result of _The Morning Post_ paragraph.
Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patriciafrom the ordeal at breakfast. Miss Wangle was the only resident atGalvin House who regularly took _The Morning Post_, it being "the dearbishop's favourite paper."
Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room. Dashingpast Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the sametime to extract from his pocket a newspaper. Patricia felt that sheshould scream. Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of thatday's _Morning Post_, and would they all bring it out of their pocketsand point out the passage to her? She sighed wearily.
Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly. At the endof half an hour she read and addressed three letters, stamping two ofthem. The first was to the editor of _The Morning Post_, and ran:--
"DEAR SIR,
"In your issue of to-day's date you make an announcement regarding amarriage having been arranged between Lord Peter Bowen and myself,which is entirely inaccurate.
"I am given to understand that this announcement was inserted on theauthority of my aunt, Miss Adelaide Brent, and I must leave you to takewhat action you choose in relation to her. As for myself, I will askyou to be so kind as to insert a contradiction of the statement in yournext issue.
"I am, "Yours faithfully, "PATRICIA BRENT."
Patricia always prided herself on the business-like quality of herletters.
The second letter was to Miss Brent. It ran:--
"DEAR AUNT ADELAIDE,
"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_ informing him thathe must take such action as he sees fit against you for inserting yourunauthorised statement that a marriage has been arranged between LordPeter Bowen and me. It may interest you to know that the engagementhas been broken off as a result of your impulsive and ill-advisedaction. Personally I think you have rather presumed on being my 'solesurviving relative.'
"Your affectionate niece, "PATRICIA."
The third letter was to Bowen.
"DEAR LORD PETER,
"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_, asking him tocontradict the inaccurate statement published in to-day's issue. I amconsumed with humiliation that such a thing should have been sent tohim by a relative of mine, more particularly by a 'sole survivingrelative.' My aunt unfortunately epitomises in her personality all theleast desirable characteristics to be found in relatives.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about--oh, everything! If you reallywant to save me from feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself you will notonly forget me, but also a certain incident.
"You have done me a great honour, I know, and you will add to it agreat service if you will do as I ask and forget all about a folly thatI have had cause bitterly to regret.
"Please forgive me for not dining with you to-night and for breaking myword; but I am feeling very unwell and tired and I have gone to bed.
"Yours sincerely, "PATRICIA BRENT."
Patricia's plan was to post the letters to Aunt Adelaide and _TheMorning Post_, and leave the other with Gustave to be given to Bowenwhen he called, she would then shut herself in her room and plead aheadache as an excuse for not being disturbed. Thus she would escapeMiss Wangle and her waves of interrogation.
As Patricia descended the stairs, Gustave was in the act of throwingopen the door to Lady Tanagra. It was too late to retreat.
"Ah! there you are," exclaimed Lady Tanagra as she passed therespectful Gustave in the hall.
Patricia descended the remaining stairs slowly and with dragging steps.Lady Tanagra looked at her sharply.
"Aren't we a nuisance?" cried she. "There's nothing more persistent innature than a Bowen. Bruce's spider is quite a parochial affair incomparison," and she laughed lightly.
Patricia smiled as she welcomed Lady Tanagra. For a moment shehesitated a
t the door of the lounge, then with a sudden movement sheturned towards the stairs.
"Come up to my room," she said, "we can talk there."
There was no cordiality in her voice. Lady Tanagra noticed that shelooked worn-out and ill. Once the bedroom door was closed she turnedto Patricia.
"My poor Patricia! whatever is the matter? You look thoroughly doneup. Now lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I will assume mybest bedside manner."
Patricia shook her head wearily, and indicating a chair by the window,seated herself upon the bed.
"I'm afraid I am rather tired," she said. "I was just going to lockmyself up for the night."
"Now I'm going to cheer you up," cried Lady Tanagra. "Was there ever amore tactless way of beginning, but I've got something to tell you thatis so exquisitely funny that it would cheer up an oyster, or even aradical."
"First," said Patricia, "I think I should like you to read theseletters." Slowly and wearily she ripped open the three letters andhanded them to Lady Tanagra, who read them through slowly anddeliberately. This done, she folded each carefully, returned it to itsenvelope and handed them to Patricia.
"Well!" said Patricia.
Lady Tanagra smiled. Reaching across to the dressing-table she took acigarette from Patricia's box and proceeded to light it. Patriciawatched her curiously.
"I think you must have been meant for a man, Tanagra," she said after apause. "You have the gift of silence, and nothing is more provoking toa woman."
"What do you want me to say?" enquired Lady Tanagra. "I like thesecigarettes," she added.
"If you are not careful, you'll make me scream in a minute," saidPatricia, with a smile. "I showed you those letters and now you don'teven so much as say 'thank you.'"
"Thank you very much indeed, Patricia," said Lady Tanagra meekly.
"You don't approve of them?" There was undisguised challenge inPatricia's voice.
"I think the one to Miss Brent is admirable, specially if you will adda postscript after what I tell you."
"But the other two," persisted Patricia.
"I do not think I am qualified to express an opinion, am I?" said LadyTanagra calmly.
"Why not?"
"Well, you see, I am an interested party."
"You!" cried Patricia, then with a sudden change, "Oh, if you are notcareful I shall come over and shake you!"
"I think that would be very good for both of us," was Lady Tanagra'sreply.
"Tell me what you mean," persisted Patricia.
"Well, in the first place, the one to the editor of _The Morning Post_will make poor Peter ridiculous, and the other will hurt his feelings,and as I am very fond of Peter you cannot expect me to be enthusiasticwith either of them, can you?"
Lady Tanagra rose and going over to Patricia put her arm round her andkissed her on the cheek, then Patricia did a very foolish thing.Without a word of warning she threw her arms around Lady Tanagra's neckand burst into tears.
"Oh, I'm so wretched, Tanagra! I know I'm a beast and I want to hurteverybody and every thing. I think I should like to hurt you even,"she cried, her mood of crying passing as quickly as it had come.
"Don't you think we had better just talk the thing out? Now since youhave asked my view," continued Lady Tanagra, "I will give it. Yourletter to _The Morning Post_ people will make poor Peter thelaughing-stock of London. He has many enemies among ambitious mamas.Never have I known him to be attracted towards a girl until you camealong. He's really paying you a very great compliment."
Patricia sniffed ominously.
"Then the letter to Peter would hurt him because--you must forgiveme--it is rather brutal, isn't it?"
Patricia nodded her head vigorously.
"Well," continued Lady Tanagra, "what do you say if we destroy themboth?"
"But--but--that would leave _The Morning Post_ announcement andP-Peter----"
"Don't you think they might both be left, just for the moment? Lateryou can wipe the floor with them."
"But--but--you don't understand, Tanagra," began Patricia.
"Don't you think that half the troubles of the world are due to peoplewanting to understand?" said Lady Tanagra calmly. "I never want tounderstand. There are certain things I know and these are sufficientfor me. In this case I know that I have a very good brother and hewants to marry a very good girl; but for some reason she won't haveanything to do either with him or with me." She looked up intoPatricia's face with a smile so wholly disarming that Patricia wasforced to laugh.
"If you knew Patricia's opinion of herself," she said to Lady Tanagra,"you would be almost shocked."
"Well, now, will you do something just to please me?" insinuated LadyTanagra. "You see this big brother of mine has always been more orless my adopted child, and you have it in your power to hurt him morethan I want to see him hurt." There was an unusually serious note inLady Tanagra's voice. "Why not let things go on as they are for thepresent, then later the engagement can be broken off if you wish it.I'll speak to Peter and see that he is not tiresome."
"Oh, but he's never been that!" protested Patricia, then she stoppedsuddenly in confusion.
Lady Tanagra smiled to herself.
"Well, if he's never been tiresome I'm sure you wouldn't like to hurthim, would you?" She was speaking as if to a child.
"The only person I want to hurt is Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia with alaugh.
Lady Tanagra noticed with pleasure that the mood seemed to be droppingfrom her.
"Well, may I be the physician for to-day?" continued Lady Tanagra.
Patricia nodded her head.
"Very well, then, I prescribe a dinner this evening with one TanagraBowen, Peter Bowen and Godfrey Elton, on the principle of 'Eat thou anddrink, to-morrow thou shalt die.'"
"Who is Godfrey Elton?" asked Patricia with interest.
"My dear Patricia, if I were to start endeavouring to describe Godfreywe should be at it for hours. You can't describe Godfrey, you can onlyabsorb him. He is a sort of wise youth rapidly approaching childhood."
"What on earth do you mean?" cried Patricia, laughing.
"You will discover for yourself later. We are all dining at theQuadrant to-night at eight."
"Dining at the Quadrant?" repeated Patricia in amazement.
"Yes, and I have to get home to dress and you have to dress and I willpick you up in a taxi at a quarter to eight."
"But--but--Peter--your brother said that he was coming----"
"Peter has greater faith in his sister than in himself, he thereforetook me into his confidence and I am his emissary."
"Oh, you Bowens, you Bowens!" moaned Patricia in mock despair.
"There is no avoiding us, I confess," said Lady Tanagra gaily. "Now Imust tell you about your charming aunt. She called upon motheryesterday."
"What!" gasped Patricia.
"She called at Grosvenor Square and announced to poor, un-understandingmother that she thought the families ought to know one another. Butshe got rather badly shocked by Godfrey and one of the soldier boys,whom we call 'Uncle,' and left with the firm conviction that our circleis a pernicious one."
"It's--it's--perfectly scandalous!" cried Patricia.
"No, it's not as bad as that," said Lady Tanagra calmly.
"What?" began Patricia. "Oh! I mean Aunt Adelaide's conduct, it'shumiliating, it's----"
"Wait until you hear," said Lady Tanagra with a smile. "When Peter ranin to see mother, she said that she had had a call from a Miss Brentand could he place her. So poor old Peter blurts out that he's goingto marry Miss Brent. Poor mother nearly had a fit on the spot. Shewas too tactful to express her disapproval; but she showed it in heramazement. The result was that Peter was deeply hurt and left the roomand the house. I am the only one who saw the exquisite humour of thejoke. My poor darling mother had the impression that Peter has goneclean off his head and wanted to marry your most excellent AuntAdelaide," and Lady Tanagra laughed gaily.
Fo
r a moment Patricia gazed at her blankly, then as she visualised AuntAdelaide and Bowen side by side at the altar she laughed hysterically.
"I kept mother in suspense for quite a long time. Then I told her, andI also rang up Peter and told him. And now I must fly," cried LadyTanagra. "I will be here at a quarter to eight, and if you are notready I shall be angry; but if you have locked yourself in your room Ishall batter down the door. We are going to have a very happy eveningand you will enjoy yourself immensely. I think it quite likely thatGodfrey will fall in love with you as well as Peter, which will stillfurther increase your embarrassments." Then with a sudden change ofmood she said, "Please cheer up, Patricia, happiness is not a thing tobe taken lightly. You have been a little overwrought of late, and now,good-bye."
"One moment, please," said Patricia. "Don't you understand thatnothing can possibly be built up on such a foundation as--as----?"
"Your picking up Peter in the Grill-room of the Quadrant," said LadyTanagra calmly.
Patricia gasped. "Oh!" she cried.
"Let's call things by their right names," said Lady Tanagra. "At thepresent moment you're putting up rather a big fight against your owninclination, and you are causing yourself a lot of unnecessaryunhappiness. Is it worth it?" she asked.
"One's self-respect is always worth any sacrifice," said Patricia.
"Except when you are in love, and then you take pride in trampling itunder foot."
With this oracular utterance Lady Tanagra departed with a bright nod, asmile and an insistence that Patricia should not come downstairs.